Into the Light, a Thieves in Time story 19
by Orion Lyonesse
Summary: What happens to Avon when Vila dies? As the family gathers, he tries to come to terms with life without his partner. Follows 'The Foundling'. This is the last chapter of Thieves in Time.
1. Family Tree

FAMILY TREE

For Thieves in Time

_A/N: I thought you might be interest in the Family Tree we created for Thieves in Time. It was originally done up nicely in a drawing program, which I don't have access to anymore. Plus, it seems to be beyond my scanner to understand the diagrams I used. Sigh! So here, in word format, is what that diagram showed:_

SERVALAN and AVON begat TORR, who, with several unknown partners, sired BARA, ROMAN, and EVAN, who later bonded with LERRYS, one of a pair of twins born to Cally's daughter SERRAN.

VILA, through a liaison with KERRILL (in Blake's Seven canon) sired GAYAN, who, through a liaison with KORI, sired GABRIEL, who later married LIVA, twin sister to LERRYS.

CALLY made a clone of herself, the daughter SERRAN, who was sent to live with AVON and VILA. SERRAN married KIERAN VALENTINE. They had a pair of twins, a daughter LIVA and a son LERRYS, as well as a younger son KIERAN. LIVA, married to Vila's grandson GABRIEL, had a pair of twins, a daughter RAGAN and a son DAMON.

BLAKE married or had a liaison with an unknown woman, producing MATTHIAS, who was adopted by a pair of Blake's lieutenants and raised in ignorance of his parents.

For more on these characters, see the _Author's Notes_ following the list of chapters in Thieves in Time in my FanFiction profile.


	2. Word Spreads

A/N: This is the last chapter/story of Thieves in Time, following 'The Foundling'. It's been eighteen years since Servalan dropped their grandson Evan at Avilla. Much has changed and much has stayed the same. But an event has occurred that will alter everything for Avilla and those who call it home.

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ENERER, one of the Outer Planets

Evan entered their rather Spartan quarters to find Lerrys frantically tossing things into their holdalls. His face puzzled and more than a little concerned, he demanded, "What the hell…Rys, what's happened?"

"We have to get back to Avilla. Now! ORAC just sent us a message: Uncle Vila died suddenly today. Grandfather Avon needs us!"

Evan caught the anguish in Rys' mind, echoed in his own. He KNEW how losing Uncle Vila would affect his grandfather: the same way it would affect him to lose Rys. There was little time. He feared his grandfather would soon follow his partner in death. Tucking in to help Rys pack, he thought, Isn't that the way it always is? We leave things unsaid until it's too late to tell the one we care for?

Together the two young men headed for the spaceport where their ship was even now being serviced and cleared for launch.

TRADE CITY

Liva and Gabriel jerked up together, eyes horrified, as Serran telepathed the news of Vila's death to them. Even non-telepathic Gabe received her. Glancing across their joined desks, he knew from the distant look on his wife's face that she and her mother Serran were still communicating.

Abruptly, Liva sagged, burying her face in her arms, sobbing over her accounting ledgers and bills of lading. Gabe slipped around the desk to put his arms around her shaking shoulders, though he was as much in need of comfort as she, upon hearing of his grandfather's sudden death.

After some moments, he withdrew, squaring his shoulders. "Liva," he said gently, "we have to get back to Avilla. Grandfather Avon and Mother Serran need us there."

She lifted a tear-stained face to him and nodded. "We'll take the shuttle. Rys and Evan and Grandmother Cally will come directly to Avilla. ORAC contacted them and they should be here within a couple of days." She pinched the bridge of her nose, surreptitiously wiping the moisture from her closed eyes. Looking up into her husband's concerned and equally stricken eyes, she asked, "Shall we take the children, Gabe?"

"Of course," he said emphatically. "This is a family time. Even if they are too young to remember, the others will remember for them." He had to fight down the lump growing in his throat before he could go on. "Call the house so they'll be ready and I'll go get them. You'll tie up the loose ends here?"

Liva nodded again, wiping away the last vestiges of her tears. All business now, her private sorrow was put in abeyance for the time being.

Shutting down his computer link, Gabriel left to gather their family.


	3. Homecoming

Chapter two: HOMECOMING

Evan and Lerrys were met at Avilla's great double doors by a clearly agitated Serran. Her long black skirt and tunic molded against her body and her curly chestnut hair was whipped about her face by the wind that entered with the two men, one her own son, the other Avon's grandson. She reached out for the younger version of her beloved father, becoming engulfed in Evan's arms, like coming home to a safe harbor. She hadn't the energy to spare to laugh at herself for that image. After all, she'd raised this tall, galaxy-traveling young man and his partner. Why should HE seem like a safe harbor to her?

"Oh, Evan, I'm so glad you're here," she said, giving herself over to the security of Evan's arms about her shoulders, wondering in some distant reach of her mind at how tall he'd gotten, how strong he felt, how glad she was that he'd finally arrived.

The catch in Serran's voice alarmed the two men. After exchanging a worried glance with Lerrys, Evan held her away from him, fixing her face with his own shadowed eyes. "What's happened, Aunt Serran?"

She gulped before answering. Usually the one who had to be strong, the one more and more in charge of the Avilla mansion these last few years, Serran was unaccustomed to needing or asking for help. And now, here she was, feeling totally inadequate when it mattered most. "It's Father," she admitted. "He just sits, staring in the library, at the fire. He won't talk to me and Mother isn't here yet. Please, see what you can do?"

Her pleading eyes touched Evan to the quick. He knew things must be bad for his normally so strong aunt to be this distracted. He gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze. Then, leaving Rys with their bags, he turned and strode across the marble-floored hall to the library.

Opening the double doors and slipping inside, the first thing Evan noticed was the darkness. It was daylight outside, but the heavy drapes were drawn, the only light coming from the fireplace. When last he had been home, the place had always been brightly lit, both because Vila disliked the dark and, lately, because of his failing eyesight.

As Evan's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Avon seated on the ancient leather sofa before the fire. There was something curious about the way he sat that Evan couldn't' quite place, until he realized Avon's left hand was restlessly searching for Vila, who habitually sat on the warmly carpeted floor leaning against Avon's knees.

Evan crossed the great room quietly and sank down to sit in Vila's accustomed place on the floor. He sensed rather than felt Avon's startled reaction, before a hand came to gently lie on his shoulder. Evan heard the softest of sighs escape from his grandfather. Drawing his knees up, the young man wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin there, staring into the fire and waiting.

When the voice finally came, it was so very soft and raw with pain. "He's gone, Evan. He promised he would never leave me alone, but he's gone."

The words tore at Evan's heart. In an instant he was on the sofa beside Avon, hands tightly gripping his upper arms, gently shaking the grieving man. "That's not true, Grandfather! Listen to me!" Evan took a deep breath, calming himself slightly. "Do you remember when you sent me away to the city guards? You promised me that this would always be my home?" Avon nodded. "You said then that you'd never really had a home until Uncle Vila created Avilla for you." Avon watched his grandson, deep brown eyes still puzzled. "Don't you see, Grandfather, he's all around you. Avilla IS Uncle Vila."

Slowly, a smile of peace crept over Avon's face, though tears silently trailed down his face.

A time later, Avon turned from his silent thoughts, really looking at his grandson for the first time, commenting wryly, "I see you've grown a beard since you left." His expression softened. "I…tried a beard once, but Vila made me shave it off." A flash of a smile lit the lined face. "He said it tickled too much! Then he tried to grow one, to get back at me, I think, but he never could get it right."

After a moment, Evan proposed, "Come on, let's get out of this dark room. Aunt Serran is beside herself worrying about you and Rys would like to say hello, too. And I haven't had the chance to visit with Gabe and Liva and the kids yet." He offered his hand to Avon, who accepted the aid to rise from the sofa. Privately, Evan was appalled at how much Avon had aged since he was last home. He hoped, however, that the prospect of seeing his grand and great grandchildren would brighten his outlook and put some spark back into his grandfather. Something, anything, to keep him from retreating any further from life.


	4. Funeral

The graveside service was almost over. A cold wind was scouring the little cemetery, presided over by one gnarled tree that had spread its branches over this sacred space as long as Serran could remember. The wrought iron fence, something Avon had caused to be made, had always struck their neighbors as odd. She thought of it as mainly keeping those buried there IN, rather than keeping possible predators out. She didn't come here much, finding it eerie and uncomfortable, preferring to fix her eyes on the future, first hers with Val, then on her children's and grandchildren's futures. Avon had come here more often, though, especially after they'd buried his son Torr here so many years ago.

She watched as Gayan moved back. His tribute to his own father had been brief, but from the heart. Though the two had only become acquainted when Gayan was already an adult, a mutually respectful friendship had grown up between them. After that first visit, Gayan had made it a point to stop at Avilla whenever the ship he captained made planet-fall on Darkover, sharing his adventures and often as not asking advice of his father and Avon. They'd backed his career in space, the only place the tall, quiet, sandy-haired man felt at peace. He was now an integral part of Avilla Trading Company, a valued commander and advisor on anything to do with Avilla Trading's far-flung empire.

When Gayan brought them Gabriel, a big-eyed, five-year-old child of a one-night stand, Vila had been given a chance he'd been denied with Gayan, to raise a child of his own. More of a father than a grandfather to the boy, Vila had loved Gabriel unreservedly. When Gabe had married Serran's daughter Liva and Liva's twin brother Lerrys had bonded with Avon's grandson Evan, Vila had seen them as fitting unions that somehow validated his with Avon, bringing full circle the saga of their lives. Vila's happiness when Gabe and Liva's own twins were born had been boundless.

Serran felt Avon stir between her and Cally. Knowing what he was about to do, she put her hand on his arm. "Father, you don't have to; everyone will understand."

He just shook his head. "No, I need…" His voice trailed off as he walked to the place where Vila rested beneath the cold, hard-packed soil. He felt the lack of flowers covering the bare earth, but there were no flowers to be had and the wind would have blown them off anyway.

Looking down, his silent audience of family, friends and workers of Avilla forgotten, he said softly, "There are so many memories of you, I don't know which one I should share." He seemed to consider for a moment. "But perhaps the one that comes to mind now is of the time we first met, as children, when you rescued me, took me to your home and showed me what a loving family life could and should be. Through all the years, the difficulties and more, I think that's the reason our lives here have been the way they were. A loving family is the most important thing to us all and I thank you, for always being there, for being…my lifeline. I've loved you almost all of my life and I will continue to do so." He stepped back, stumbling slightly.

Serran rushed forward to steady him. "I think we should go back to the house now, father. There are guests waiting."

Avon nodded silently.

"Mother and I will play hostess, Father. Don't worry."

"Thank you, Serran." Brown eyes gazed at the dark clouds piling on the grey horizon, a distant look clouding their usually piercing expression. "I'd…like to stay here by myself, just for a few moments longer, please."

"Oh course, Father. I understand."

He watched as Cally and their daughter followed the rest of back to Avilla, then turned to bid a final farewell. Through eyes obscured by tears, he took one last look, then turned toward his home. As he walked, slowly and heavily, Avon remembered all the words spoken by those closest to Vila, the tradition on this world in place of a religious service. It was a good tradition, he thought, one that made more sense than some of the more barbaric funeral rituals he'd discovered during his years in space. The tributes spoken today would remain with him forever. But it would not be enough.

He had reached the house now, vaguely aware of the comforting touches and soft words of understanding as he passed among the people gathered there. Oh, yes, Vila had been a popular man on this world, making friends easily. That was obvious by the number in attendance.

Avon looked around the library, picking out his family. One by one, his eyes rested on them a moment before passing on. He was tired and his head ached, but the thought of lying in that big bed upstairs, alone, was something he couldn't bear, not right now. Maybe not ever.

"I wish I could have been here for you, Avon." Cally's voice gently interrupted his isolation.

"Thank you," he replied, looking briefly into her concerned eyes. He noticed she had donned the Avilla tartan, the plaid Vila had created especially for them both, though this time the brat, or sash, was worn over a black blouse and skirt. He was touched by her kindness and thoughtfulness. "We'll talk later, Cally, just you and me."

She nodded, then moved away to join her daughter, bidding a good evening to departing guests gathering up their belongings and bundling up in cloaks, coats, and capes.

Avon headed away: away from people, away from family, away from well-meaning but ultimately worthless words of comfort. He came to haven in Vila's cluttered, well-worn office. The huge galactic map of Avilla holdings still dominated the room. Ledger books and reference print-outs lay strewn about the large desk, waiting for its owner to return and take up his work. The high-intensity lamp Avon had imported for Vila as his eyesight had gotten worse, remained hovering over the work area.

After a moment's stunned recognition of where his aimless wanderings had brought him, Avon sighed, moving heavily into the room and quietly shutting the door behind him. Hearing the click of the latch, he smiled briefly, remembering so many locks bested by Vila and himself over the years, sometimes even locks meant to stand between them.

Sobering, he made his way around the desk, sinking into the comfort of Vila's cushioned, thread-bare chair. His sitting down in it brought up a soft cloud of dust and scent-Vila's scent. Avon closed his eyes, letting memories wash over him as tears washed down his face. He couldn't remember crying so much before, but then, he'd never lost Vila before, either.

*Avon.*

The voice, one that had accompanied him for forty years, seemed hesitant and fearful. That couldn't be, could it? ORAC was a computer, not a person, no matter its irascible nature.

"Yes," he replied wearily. Best to get over whatever the super-computer wanted. What could be so important, though, as to disturb him now?

*Vila is laid to rest, I take it?*

Pain almost buried Avon, washing over him like a tidal wave. He raised one hand, pulling it down his damp face, feeling the throb of tension and ache there. "Yes, he is, ORAC."

*May I ask what your plans are?* ORAC was asking him, not demanding, as was his nature.

"Plans? There are no plans. My life has ended with Vila's." It was the truth, Avon saw, the literal truth. He could feel the recurring stirrings of his heart as it ran on toward its final beat. What more was there to do?

*And what of your family?*

His family? Yes, he loved them, but they would be fine. They had each other. Most of them were happily married. He regretted for a moment that he wouldn't see their grandchildren grow up, but that was as had to be.

When he stopped to think about it, he only felt bad for Evan. Now a young man with a loving partner, he'd never known his father. Avon couldn't bear to tell him about his own son Torr and how he'd died. How he'd lived, for that matter, something Avon himself didn't know.

Suddenly, Avon knew what he had to do. Perhaps the final thing he could do for the loving family he and Vila had created between them.

*ORAC, please record my next words and send them to Servalan, after I am gone. Bid her come to Avilla, but don't tell her why. Both Servalan and Evan must be present for you to transmit my message. Understood?"

*Confirmed.*

And Avon began to speak.


	5. If Ever

Cally and Avon sat in the parlour of her Avilla suite. After such a long and tiring day, they'd decided to take a late evening supper alone together. Though he'd agreed to the meal, she noticed he hadn't eaten any of it. Watching her friend of so many years, she knew that he was trying very hard not to listen for the footsteps he would never again hear.

In an effort to distract her friend, she touched his arm, saying, "Avon, I know you've heard more than enough words of comfort today so I won't try to add to them, but if you want to talk, I will listen.

Avon nodded. She understood, he thought, just what he needed. He felt the world winding down around him, as he remembered all their years together. He found himself picking up and examining all the treasures, all the wondrous moments he accumulated in his lifetime, nearly all of them since coming to Darkover, so long ago.

Bringing himself back to the present with difficulty, he told her, "He died in my arms, Cally."

"Oh, Avon…" In an instant she had her arms around him. The Avon she'd first known would have stiffened and drawn away, but that Avon was long gone, replaced by a warm, loving man who had built a new life here on Darkover, one filled with family and love, all of which he said was due to Vila's work and Vila's love, the foundation and strength of Avilla.

This Avon drew a slow sigh, sagging just a bit in her embrace. He shook his head, perhaps denying he needed comfort, though he welcomed it. "There was little suffering. I suppose if one were to be able to choose the manner of one's passing, that would be the way most would take."

He gripped her closer, tighter, needing comfort that would never be enough. The arms that held him weren't his and never would be again. His face crumbled and tears threatened to overflow his eyes. His words had to force themselves past the block in his throat, and came out breathy and weak and broken. "I don't know how I'm going to live without him, Cally."

"We do what we must, Avon. You will find strength when you need it." She was trying to reassure him, or perhaps herself. It wasn't working for either of them.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so, not anymore," he rasped. "My strength died with Vila. He always was my rock, my anchor." Avon felt a familiar tightening in his chest, the peculiar tingling in his left arm. He knew the symptoms, had been feeling them for several days now, and he welcomed them, hoping his own passing would be as easy as Vila's had been and that it would be soon, please the gods, soon. He was so tired, so very tired.

Cally sat beside him now, still holding both his hands in hers. The silence around them was only broken by the crackle of the blaze in the fireplace and the ticking of the old clock, its face built into the body of a generic space ship with the words 'Avilla Trading Company' written in gold letters down its side. The old, thick walls of the mansion held at bay any noises, gathering around them like a warm blanket of safety and shelter against the storm she knew was raging outside.

When Avon broke the quiet, he asked softly, "Do you remember what we talked about when you came to visit us here that first time?"

"Yes."

"I told him that very night, Cally, that I loved him, and I never let a day go by that I didn't tell him again at least once. It was so easy after the first time."

"You have no regrets then?"

"None," he replied firmly. "Those were the last words he heard before he died. I was holding him when the pain hit. He took two breaths and was gone."

Cally looked closely at Avon now, his long mane gone from gleaming silver to snow white since her last visit. His once proud carriage stooped, his shoulders slumped, his movements slow, all told her something was wrong, somehow.

Avon rose with difficulty, taking down her harp, hung on a far wall. He handed it to her gravely. "Play for me, Cally, one last time?" Avon lowered himself onto the sofa, making himself comfortable on the old upholstered sofa.

She tried not to think about the finality of his words as she accepted the instrument, tuned it, and began to stroke the strings. As she began the song she knew he wanted, Cally saw his lips move silently and smiled as silent tears flowed from Avon's eyes.

The first time ever I lay with you,

And felt your heart beat so close to mine.

I thought our joy would fill the worlds

And would last till the end of time, my love,

And would last till the end of time...

When she saw his head fell forward on his chest, whether with grief or perhaps the beginning of healing, Cally continued to play softly for a time till she knew he slept. Putting aside her harp, she eased him down onto the cushions and pulled the fur throw off the back of the sofa to cover him. She watched the labored breathing and knew he had little time left.

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Cally was startled awake by something she couldn't at first identify. She opened her eyes. It was dark in the room and she rose, grabbing the thick robe off the chair. Opening the door, she found her daughter kneeling beside the sofa and its still form. Except for the smile that now graced his features, Avon hadn't moved since he'd fallen asleep earlier. Cally put a hand out. The face was cold and still, hands white against the coverlet. She looked closely to be certain. There was no movement of his chest. He had simply let go as peacefully as he'd wanted.

She turned to Serran and shook her head. "He's with Vila now."

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_Arm in arm, Avon and Vila strolled together into the brilliant white light, soft words and laughter trailing behind them._

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Servalan arrived several days later.


	6. Servalan

The house was blessedly quiet again, for which Evan was grateful. All the guests had gone, leaving behind a shocked family amid the echoing halls of the mansion. When he heard the knock at the mansion's door, he automatically went to answer it.

Seeing who graced his doorstep, Evan was taken aback. With a stony face worthy of Avon, he greeted Servalan with a slight nod. "Grandmother. I knew Grandfather had asked ORAC to send for you, but I didn't seriously think you'd have the bad taste to come here unannounced." He remembered her clearly, from the one time he had seen her in the flesh, when she'd delivered her unwanted grandchild into Avon's hands. The fact that Evan had found a warm, caring father-figure in Avon, as well as a mentor who'd understood that child's awakening psychic powers, in no way meant he'd forgiven this woman.

He reined in his bitter memories, squaring his shoulders with a sigh. "However, Uncle Vila would never forgive me if I didn't make you welcome. Please, come in."

He gestured her politely into the great hall with a grace she found heartbreakingly familiar, both from her memories of Avon and…Torr. The beard, though, startled her. She couldn't ever remember Avon with a beard, but quite liked the effect of the black, close cropped mustache and beard on Evan. She smiled slightly as she passed the young man, sweeping off her heavy cloak and handing it to him to hang up. Her immaculate white jumpsuit was trimmed with black piping with, here and there a touch of silver that winked when they caught the light.

She preceded him regally into the library. Entering the coolness of the library though, for the third time in her life, she shivered and stopped. Turning to Evan, she raised one elegant, gloved hand, demanding, with the same imperious tone that he remembered from so long ago when she'd abandoned him in this very room, "Why was I…summoned, Evan? Why, at this late date, would Avon want to see me?"

He stood rooted to the spot and his face paled. "You mean…you don't know? ORAC didn't tell you?" He lowered his eyes and shook his head, dismayed. He looked down into her dark eyes and said, "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, grandmother, but…Avon and Vila died within two days of each other and were buried three days ago."

Evan hadn't conceived it possible for her to get paler, but she managed it. Oh, she was still a beauty. Doubtlessly that was one of her remaining pleasures, keeping up that cold, haughty façade, he thought.

Her long dark lashes lay quiet on her cheeks as tears escaped them, silently sliding down her face. Her hand dropped, hanging limply, and she seemed almost not to breathe.

Taking pity on her, the young man took her arm and guided her to a seat by the fireplace, cracking bright as it strove to banish the cold from the large room. "I'm sorry if I was abrupt with you. It's been a very trying time for all of us. There are so many things changing right now that none of us really knows what to think or do. I apologize, grandmother. May I get you something to drink?"

His solicitous words broke through the shock and grief. Raising her eyes to his, she nodded gratefully, the motion scarcely affecting her short-cut white hair.

Evan rose, went to the well-stocked sideboard, and poured her a small crystal glass of sherry and handed it to her. She nodded her thanks and sipped it slowly. The drink managed to warm her a bit and bring a hint of color to her face.

"How…did he die?"

Evan had no doubt that she meant Avon. "After Uncle Vila died, he seemed to fail rapidly. He…fell asleep while Cally was playing her harp for him…and…he never woke up." He sat down next to her on the sofa, leaning forward, propping himself on his elbows and knees, his large elegant hands cupped about his chin and cheeks, simply staring into the fire for long silent minutes.

Continuing at last, he said meditatively, "I've never seen two people more committed to and in love with each other. I…hope Lerrys and I can come to that level of love someday." He turned his head toward her, to find her watching him closely, almost hungrily absorbing his every word. "They both loved all of us kids, too." He paused as a new idea struck him. "Oh, I guess you don't know about the rest of the family here, do you?" He ticked them off, one by one, relishing the warmth of their lives rubbing against him and, perhaps, also enjoying the look of stricken wonder spreading across Servalan's sculpted face. "Besides me, there is Cally's daughter Serran and Serran's twins Liva and Lerrys and her youngest son Kieran, Uncle Vila's son Gayan and his son Gabriel."

Hearing the mention of a son of Vila, her eyes widened at the sudden distant memory of a sandy-haired, oddly familiar boy standing next to her son Torr on a faraway space colony, and she chuckled softly and bitterly at the irony of it all. †

Evan continued, "Liva and Gabriel married and have a pair of twins themselves. They're only 18 months old, though." His face sobered. "I'm sorry they will never know their great-grandsires, but we'll all do our best to make them real to the twins as they grow up." He glanced up at Servalan and was awed at the lost, little girl look of her. He straightened and reached over to clasp her hand.

Tears streaming freely, she didn't even acknowledge his gesture, so wrapped was she in memories of the past and this present she had no part of. Softly, she spoke. "Such a wealth of family. I'm…really very happy for them both. At…one time I cost them their families and vowed revenge on Avon." Again he heard that strange low chuckle from her. "It would seem that all my machinations led them at last to happiness and love and family. Oh, it's such a delicious piece of fate, don't you think? In trying to wreak revenge, I lost everything and they gained it all!"

Evan stared at this incomprehensible creature that was his grandmother. He just didn't know how to handle the situation. "What…did ORAC say?"

Absently, she pulled off her black gloves, dropping them to the floor. Brushing ineffectually at her tears, she answered, "ORAC simply demanded that I come to Avilla. Avon had something for me, he said. I can't imagine what, now."

Finally having a course of action presented to him, Evan rose and activated the access codes that opened ORAC's recessed hiding place. Pressing home the activator key, he asked, "ORAC, what was it Grandfather left for…Servalan?" he finished. He found himself unable to signify her as his grandmother.

The answer was very subdued, for ORAC. *He left a recording to be played back to her in your presence, Evan.*

His eyebrows climbed his pale forehead. When ORAC didn't go on, he glanced back at Servalan, shrugging. "You'll have to ask for it yourself, I'm afraid. He probably needs your voice-print to unlock whatever it is."

Rising, she approached ORAC, a small smile quirking her lips. This plexi box of twinkling lights had caused her so much grief over the years, not to mention more than a few deaths. To see it sitting here, surrounded by the almost-medieval splendor of Avilla, seemed incongruous and wildly implausible.

"ORAC, please play the recording Avon left for me."

Immediately Avon's voice filled the room. If possible, Servalan grew even whiter to hear that voice after so many years. Evan gasped and closed his eyes. How he missed them both, Avon and Vila. Theirs had been the arms that held him when he cried. Theirs the voices of reason and counsel as he grew to manhood. Theirs the home he would forever think of as his own.

Avon's voice continued unaffected. "I assume, if you are hearing this, that Vila and I are dead and Servalan and Evan are present."

"Evan, I've called Servalan here for your sake. I…never told you about your father's death...and I couldn't tell you about his life." The tone of his voice changed and became harder.

"Servalan, you owe me and Evan at least that much, I think you'll agree." Evan was now watching Servalan, staring wide-eyed at ORAC.

Again that low velvety voice changed, this time becoming softer, taking on an intimate tone Evan had never heard before. "Servalan, a final word. In my own way, I did love you all those years ago, but…I loved Vila more. I regret the years of hatred and war between us…and the others who suffered because of us."

"Farewell."

Avon's voice stopped and ORAC was silent. It wasn't until much later that Liva, seeking answers to a trading problem, found that the ORAC personality was gone, leaving behind only an impersonal, practical computer presence. In the dark of night, she sometimes wondered where ORAC had gone and whether he'd left because he was lonely for Vila and Avon.

Evan turned to Servalan and asked, "Please, tell me about my father."

FINIS

† _In a written but lost story, Gayan, already a space veteran of sixteen, rescued the slightly younger Torr, when the boy tried to escape Servalan's smothering grasp to explore on his own on a new planet. The two boys, like a young Avon and Vila, felt an attraction toward each other, something that might have developed into love and changed the whole life path of Torr. Servalan, seeing that attraction, was at some pains thereafter to instill the homophobia in Torr that eventually led to his death. It was written by Romeo Brown, the designer of __Grand Tour II's__ fantastic space ship. (SEE Author's Notes in my profile, following the listing of the chapters.)_

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_A/N: This is the end of Thieves in Time. It was written with my writing partner, Ophelia Jones, and the enthusiastic support and reading of our rather large, extended B7 family, all of whom kept egging us on and throwing ideas at us until we had to write each successive story. About the time we finished the sixth story, what we had thought was a series of unrelated stories resolved themselves into a coherent AU. With some minor tweaking and filling in of holes, we found ourselves with a novel! We were all surprised and delighted!_

_I hope you've enjoyed reading __Thieves in Time__ as much as we enjoyed writing it. I would appreciate hearing from you, our readers, so please_ _review!_


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